Dust is Eloquent
by JolieBlack
Summary: Pre „A Study in Pink". How did St. Barts Hospital become Sherlock's home away from home? - Sherlock and Molly meet for the first time. Mike Stamford chuckles. Mycroft does not approve. Greg Lestrade saves the day. Unrequited Sherlock/Molly (100 % canon compatible). Rated K plus for subtle references to drug abuse.


**Dust is Eloquent**

by Jolie Black

based on the BBC "Sherlock" series

**Summary:** Pre „A Study in Pink". How did St. Barts Hospital become Sherlock's home away from home? - Sherlock and Molly meet for the first time. Mycroft does not approve. Unrequited Sherlock/Molly (100 % canon)

**Disclaimer: **Sherlock belongs to so many people (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffatt, Mark Gatiss and all the BBC) that there is nothing left of him that could possibly belong to me.

**Rating:** PG for subtle references to drug abuse.

**Author's note: ** Written as a script for another of all those scenes that I would have liked to see**. **I'm not a scientist or doctor. I've never seen anyone use a real mass spectrometer in my life. If I got this or any of the scientific things terribly wrong, let me know.

**Feedback** is much appreciated!

* * *

><p><em>The pathology lab at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, London. Molly Hooper, in her lab coat, is seated on a stool at a bench with her back to the door. She is looking into a microscope, studying a sample. She leans back for a moment, blinks a couple of times to relax her eyes, jots down some notes on a notepad, then looks into the microscope again, carefully readjusting the focus. Behind her, the door opens. A man walks in. He's in a dark brown three-piece suit, very carefully groomed, and carries an umbrella. The door closes behind him. He stands just inside the door, very upright, with a commanding air, waiting to be served. <em>

MOLLY _(without turning round or looking up from the microscope):_ Hi, Mike. With you in a second.

_Taken aback, the man literally baulks in indignation. After a short moment of silence, he opens his mouth to speak. Molly chooses this moment to turn round to face him with a smile. But at the sight of her visitor, her smile disappears instantly. Instead, she reddens. _

MOLLY: Oh. Sorry. I took you for someone else.

MYCROFT _(with monumental dignity):_ I very much hope so!

_A short pause. Molly looks a little puzzled._

MOLLY: Can I help you?

MYCROFT _(recovering, in a more businesslike tone):_ Yes. My name is Holmes.

_A pause while Mycroft waits for Molly to react. She doesn't._

MYCROFT: Oh well. I'm looking for Dr. Hooper.

MOLLY _(getting up from her stool, smiling again):_ Yes?

MYCROFT: Is he in?

MOLLY: That's me. _(Emphasizing her words with a little nod.)_ I'm Dr. Hooper.

MYCROFT: Oh. _(He looks her up and down, but doesn't appear very impressed.)_ Yes, I might have known.

_He takes a couple of steps into the laboratory, looking around at the scientific instruments and computers and bottles and jars with detached interest. Then his eyes return to Molly. _

MYCROFT: You had a visitor last week.

_Molly doesn't reply immediately. _

MYCROFT: An unexpected visitor.

MOLLY _(slightly annoyed):_ Yes, that seems to be getting a habit.

MYCROFT: You know who I'm talking about. An unexpected visitor to whom you

extended a surprising amount of generosity and trust, considering how little you know about him.

_Molly reddens again._

MOLLY _(defensively):_ Have there been complaints?

MYCROFT (_smoothly_): Do you feel that there is any reason for complaint?

MOLLY (_too quickly_): No, of course not.

_Mycroft turns away from her and starts walking around the lab, looking at all the instruments and compartments and cupboards in more detail. He even runs his fingers thoughtfully along the top of a heating cabinet. _

MYCROFT (_pensively, to himself_): I can see why he likes it here. (_Turning round to face Molly again._) Yes, I can definitely see why.

_Molly opens her mouth, then closes it again. _

MYCROFT (_abruptly_): What did he want?

**FLASHBACK**_ to the pathology lab, some days earlier. Molly, in her lab coat again, is at a computer, entering data from a spreadsheet. There is a knock on the door. Enter Mike Stamford, also in a lab coat over his shirt and tie, and behind him, Sherlock Holmes, wearing his customary dark suit. _

MIKE _(jovially):_ Hullo, Dr. Hooper. Got a minute?

MOLLY _(looking up from the computer):_ Yeah, sure.

MIKE _(half-turning, beckoning to Sherlock to come closer, which he does):_ Molly, this is Sherlock. _(Grinning mischievously)_ He has a question for you.

MOLLY _(her gaze shifting from Mike to Sherlock, as yet no more than politely interested): _Yes?

MIKE _(to Sherlock):_ Go on.

_Sherlock locks eyes with Molly for a long moment. She blinks, slightly disconcerted. When he speaks, his voice is low, velvety, almost purring. _

SHERLOCK: Mike here told me that you have something really special.

_A pause. _

MOLLY _(still not quite sure what to make of this, but obviously flattered_): Oh.

_Mike looks extremely amused. _

SHERLOCK_ (as before): _Something really special that is exactly what I'm looking for.

MOLLY _(with a tentative smile):_ Yes?

SHERLOCK: Yes.

_He squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath and raises his chin. _

SHERLOCK: A mass spectrometer.

**THE PRESENT.**_ Mycroft is still waiting for Molly's reply. She's starting to look flustered. _

MOLLY: He just wanted to use the MS. And a couple of other things.

MYCROFT: And you let him, of course.

MOLLY _(defensively):_ Well, no harm done. He knew what he was doing.

**FLASHBACK.**_ We see Sherlock walking past Molly towards a partitioned-off area of the lab where the mass spectrometer is installed. Molly and Mike remain standing in the main lab, watching Sherlock through the glass wall. Sherlock sits down on the stool in front of the apparatus, scans it and the attached computer with his eyes, and then in a quick series of extremely controlled an competent movements, turns on several switches, opens a flap, starts an application on the computer, rapidly types some data into it, and then takes a small transparent plastic bag from the pocket of his jacket. _

MIKE _(quietly, to Molly):_ Don't worry. He's used one before.

MOLLY _(impressed):_ Yes, obviously.

_A pause as Sherlock continues to prepare the apparatus for an analysis, completely absorbed in his work. _

MOLLY _(to Mike):_ He a student of yours?

MIKE: No. I wish. Though maybe not.

MOLLY: Why not?

_Mike chuckles, but doesn't reply. _

**THE PRESENT. **

MYCROFT: And did he tell you what he wanted to use it for?

MOLLY: He said he wanted to prove someone wrong.

MYCROFT _(rolling his eyes):_ Yes, that's the greatest joy he knows in life.

MOLLY: Well – I suppose – I just assumed he needed it for his PhD or something.

_Mycroft throws back his head with a short and rather artificial burst of laughter. _

**FLASHBACK** _to Sherlock still sitting at the MS. Molly walks up behind him, trying to look as if she'd just wandered over by chance. Mike has left. _

MOLLY: So what are you running in there?

SHERLOCK _(without looking up):_ Dust.

MOLLY _(with a slightly worried glance at the expensive apparatus):_ All right.

_A pause. _

MOLLY: You doing a PhD then?

SHERLOCK _(without looking up):_ No.

_Results start popping up on the computer screen. Sherlock turns a couple of switches. The MS makes a low humming tone, getting lower and lower until it fades. _

MOLLY (_suddenly smiling):_ Then you probably should.

_Without turning his head, Sherlock frowns at her out of the corner of his eye. _

**THE PRESENT. **

MOLLY: What's so funny?

MYCROFT: Oh, his PhD.

MOLLY (_slightly hurt):_ So he's got one.

MYCROFT: Yes.

MOLLY: Then why didn't he tell me?

MYCROFT (_drily):_ Probably because he doesn't know it.

MOLLY _(puzzled):_ How can you have a PhD and not know it?

MYCROFT: Long story. Suffice it to say that by the time the National Commission on Ethics in Science had finally approved the publication of a heavily censored version of his thesis to a strictly limited readership, he'd lost interest and moved on. His parents have the certificate framed on their living room wall now, but they take it down every time he comes to visit.

_He glances at Molly and smiles a very brief, mirthless smile. _

MOLLY _(truly interested):_ What was the thesis about?

MYCROFT _(innocently, looking straight over Molly's head):_ Poisons.

MOLLY: Detecting them?

MYCROFT (_his eyes returning to Molly's face, fixing her with a disconcerting stare):_ No. Making them.

_Molly looks shocked. There is a pause as she runs her hand across her forehead, looking harassed and suddenly very tired. _

MOLLY _(resigned):_ You're the police, aren't you.

MYCROFT: Only sometimes.

MOLLY: Then how come you know so much about him?

MYCROFT: How come _you_ know so little about him? He's practically set up camp in your laboratory.

_Molly opens her mouth, then closes it again. _

MYCROFT: Yes, I know. He's hard to resist. All that cleverness, all that brilliance, like a warm glow in this cold, hard world.

_He gestures around the room. Molly frowns at him, truly hurt now. _

**FLASHBACK** _to Molly and Sherlock, in the lab, on a different day going by their clothes. Sherlock is sitting on a stool, the bench in front of him littered with test tubes and jars and petri dishes. He's typing a text message on his phone. Molly walks past behind him to the washbasin in the corner. She takes off her lab coat, hangs it on the hook next to the basin, and starts washing her hands. _

MOLLY _(innocently, over her shoulder):_ So, who are you really?

SHERLOCK _(not looking up from his phone):_ Interesting question. How would_ you_ answer it?

_Molly turns back towards him, drying her hands on a paper towel, and shrugs. Sherlock hits the "send" button on his phone and looks up. _

SHERLOCK: Identity is a construct. _I_ know all sorts of things about you. I know that you like cats but you don't currently own one. I know that you had two Weetabix with semi-skimmed milk for breakfast this morning. I know you're feeling guilty because you haven't called your widowed mother for days, pretending to yourself and her that you're too busy. I know you've run out of contact lense fluid and forgot – no, you didn't forget, your preferred brand wasn't in stock when you popped into Boots at lunchtime. I know you've been single for at least the past four years and getting a little desperate by now. But does all this tell me who you really are?

_Molly stands dumbstruck, her mouth literally open, the wet crumpled paper towel forgotten in her hands. _

**THE PRESENT. **

MYCROFT: And of course he was right in every particular?

MOLLY _(defiantly):_ No. He wasn't right about the desperate bit.

_Mycroft gives her a very condescending look. Then he squares his shoulders and clears his throat. _

MYCROFT: Well, time's getting on. He's only - _(taking out his pocket watch and looking at it) _- about an hour behind me, so let's get down to business.

_He produces a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket and hands it to Molly. _

MYCROFT: This is a list of a number of substances that I would be very unhappy if I heard that the man you know as Sherlock had got his hands on them somehow in this laboratory.

_Molly takes paper, unfolds it, and runs her eyes down a long typed list. She frowns as she realises what it is about. She looks back up at Mycroft with a deeply offended look on her face. _

MOLLY _(sternly):_ I can assure you, _sir,_ that _none _of these are, have ever been, or will ever be found in this laboratory in a form that is suitable for consumption.

MYCROFT _(urbanely):_ Thank you, Miss Hooper. That is all I needed to know. It's been a pleasure to talk to you. Good day.

_He picks up his umbrella and exits the lab, leaving Molly to stare after him. The door closes behind him. Molly looks again at the list Mycroft gave her, then sinks down on her stool, puts the paper down on the bench, takes her phone out of the pocket of her coat, and dials a number. There is a short pause as she waits for the reply, during which she stares out of the window with a pained look on her face. Tears are beginning to form in her eyes. _

MOLLY _(fighting to keep her voice under control):_ Mike? I need to talk to you right now. Please.

_A little later,_ _Molly and Mike Stamford are sitting in the hospital canteen, facing each other across a table. They both have paper cups of coffee in front of them. On Molly's side of the table is also the folded sheet of paper that Mycroft gave her. The canteen is very busy. There is a hum of voices in the air and a constant clatter of cutlery. People keep passing behind both Molly's and Mike's backs, carrying trays, looking for free tables. _

MOLLY (_passing a hand over her eyes):_ He can't come again.

MIKE _(lightly):_ Who, Sherlock? Why not? I thought you didn't mind.

MOLLY: I didn't, but -

MIKE: Ah, you know. He's a bit of a dick sometimes. Don't let it get to you. I think he doesn't really mean it. Probably doesn't even know he's doing it.

_Mike takes a sip of his coffee. _

MOLLY _(impatiently):_ It's not that, Mike. I think he'll get us in trouble.

_Mike coughs, holding his paper napkin in front of his lips. _

MIKE: Trouble? Every one of my students breaks more glasses and instruments in a single lesson than Sherlock ever will in ten years. I know your lab is your baby, Molly, but -

_Molly holds up the folded paper._

MOLLY: This is what's got me worried.

MIKE: What is it?

MOLLY: I think I've just had a visit from the police.

MIKE: So what. You do all the time.

MOLLY: Not usually about living men.

_She hands the paper over to Mike, who unfolds it._

MOLLY: He gave me this and basically told me that this is what Sherlock is really after.

MIKE: Who, Inspector Lestrade?

MOLLY: No. Someone I haven't met before.

_Mike reads, then whistles softly. _

MIKE: That's quite a list.

MOLLY: Yes, it is.

_A pause. _

MIKE: He doesn't really look like the type though, does he?

MOLLY: It happens all the time, to all sorts of people.

_She has folded her hands on the table in front of her. Now her fingers convulse, white knuckles standing out. She looks down. Mike gives her a sympathetic smile and pats her arm paternally with his big hand. _

MIKE: Now, now.

MOLLY: What do I do now?

_Mike gives a helpless shrug. At that moment, Molly's phone starts buzzing. She sniffs, picks it up and takes the call. _

MOLLY: Yes? Oh yes, of course. I'll be down in a minute.

_She ends the call._

MOLLY: Well, that _was_ Lestrade, for a change. He's down in the morgue. There's something he wants me to review. Sorry. But thanks anyway.

_She starts getting up. Mike simply nods in reply. _

_We cut to the Morgue. Molly approaches the door leading to the long corridor outside the dissecting rooms. Through the large glass window in the door, she sees Greg Lestrade standing in the middle of the corridor under a bright lamp, deep in an animated discussion with Sherlock Holmes in his long dark coat and scarf. Molly stops dead outside the door, watching the two men intently. Lestrade has a folder open in his hand and points at something in it. Sherlock leans in to see, then shakes his head. Lestrade seems to insist. Sherlock raises one of his hands, ticking off items of an imaginary list on his fingers - one, two, three. Now it's Lestrade's turn to shake his head. Sherlock shrugs, palms upwards in an "I told you" gesture. Their conduct is completely calm and professional, and they appear very comfortable with each other, very much on a par._

_There is a rumble and clatter behind Molly as two morgue technicians in blue hospital uniforms approach her, wheeling a stretcher. There is obviously a body on it, decently covered with a sheet. Molly steps aside and opens the door for them. They pass through with a nod of thanks to her, and she walks into the corridor after them. The rattling noise reaches an echoing pitch as the stretcher is wheeled into one of the dissecting rooms. Molly approaches Lestrade, trying not to look at Sherlock at all. Lestrade smiles warmly as he sees her coming. _

LESTRADE: Molly. I'm here again about the Woodford case. I've been persuaded by Mr Holmes here (_gesturing towards Sherlock_) to ask for a more detailed analysis of the dust under her fingernails.

_At the mention of his name, Molly's gaze has shifted from Lestrade to Sherlock. She looks completely taken aback. Sherlock is standing very still, with his hands behind his back, completely straight-faced. _

MOLLY _(incredulously_): Mr _Holmes?_

LESTRADE (_looking from one to the other, a little impatiently):_ Yes. Sherlock Holmes_. (Ironically)_ I'm afraid he's being of invaluable help to us. Again.

MOLLY: Again?

_A ghost of a grin begins to form at one corner of Sherlock's mouth. _

MOLLY _(to Lestrade, almost accusingly)_: He's _helping _you.

LESTRADE: Yeah. Nicely put. Sometimes it feels more like he's running the show.

_Molly takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to digest all this. She shakes her head in disbelief. _

MOLLY _(to Sherlock):_ I - I was on the edge of locking the door on you for good.

SHERLOCK _(looking hurt):_ Oh, please not. I really need that MS once in a while. There simply isn't room for one in my kitchen.

LESTRADE _(to Molly, amused):_ Why did you want to lock the door on him?

MOLLY _(pointedly):_ Because _Mr Holmes _advised it.

_She studies Sherlock's face intently, waiting for his reaction. Sherlock frowns. _

LESTRADE _(suspiciously_): What are you talking about?

_Molly, without taking her eyes off Sherlock's, pulls Mycroft's folded list out of her pocket and hands it to Sherlock. _

MOLLY: Now tell me he's wrong.

_Sherlock takes the paper, slowly unfolds it and glances over the list. His lips distort in _

_a sneer. Then he straightens up, raises his chin, folds the paper again and holds it out to Molly in a grand imperious gesture of dismissal._

SHERLOCK (_dramatically, popping out the first letter_): Burn it.

_Silence. Then - _

MOLLY: You burn it. _(She smiles.)_ And then you can come back.

* * *

><p>THE END.<p>

September 2014


End file.
